


Mending

by Whisper132



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-12
Updated: 2006-03-12
Packaged: 2017-10-23 15:36:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/252007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whisper132/pseuds/Whisper132
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Standard “after the failed Kantou tourney” Sanayuki fic full of fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mending

  
Kirihara hated Sanada. It wasn’t anything personal; the little demon just could never win against his fukubuchou, and that wasn’t natural. Kirihara also never won against Yukimura, but Yukimura was far too kind a person to hate. Sanada was an ass, a heartless ass who made the team run laps and do impossible drills- twice. Marui really seemed to like Sanada, though. Marui said that there was something warm and squishy in Sanada, like newly chewed bubblegum, that only came out every now and then. Kirihara was fairly certain that that particular insight was the sugar talking and not Marui’s keen sense of observation.

Kirihara wasn’t the only one who despised Sanada; Yanagi was also prone to saying a sniping word or two when Sanada wasn’t around. Yanagi lacked sanity though, so Kirihara didn’t really trust his judgment, either. What perplexed the second year the most was that, despite being an ass, Sanada was, without a doubt, Yukimura’s favorite person. It made absolutely no sense. Kirihara’d asked Yanagi about it and the data collector told him, “wait until you’re older.” Kirihara slammed a ball into the crook of Yanagi-senpai’s elbow for that one. It was the left elbow, so Yanagi could still play. Sanada would’ve killed Kirihara if he mortally wounded their allegedly third best player.

&= &

After the Kanto tournament, Sanada went immediately to Yukimura’s side and began what would be known as the longest apology in Rikkaidai Fuzoku history. Sanada began by offering his buchou the silver medal, along with a dozen yellow roses and the dark chocolate Pocky that Yukimura had recently taken a liking to. The following day, Sanada brought a schedule for the team’s new training regimen, constructed by Yanagi. With the schedule, Sanada also brought another box of Pocky and a can of iced coffee, which had previously been Yukimura’s favorite but, due to his medication, Yukimura had only recently been allowed to drink it again. The following two weeks of Yukimura’s in-hospital recovery went much the same.

When Yukimura finally made it out of the hospital and was allowed to return to school, Sanada vanished. Sanada was absent from classes, a hitherto unheard of occurance. Sanada missed practices and, while Yukimura was there to supervise, the buchou was…upset. An upset Yukimura translated into painfully difficult practices and an all around miserable time for anyone who was unfortunate enough to come into contact with the purple haired boy. It wasn’t until the middle of the second week of absences that Yukimura had had enough. But, instead of stampeding into the Sanada household and demanding answers, Yukimura, always one for the more subtle methods, sent Yanagi Renji to fetch Rikkai’s prodigal fukubuchou.

& = &

Sanada heard the door to his family dojo slide open and froze, mid-swing. He’d been practicing his kendo daily, before and after he completed the homework that Marui kindly brought him each day. He owed the pink-haired boy, and that seemed enough to appease Marui for the moment. Marui was the only one in school who could say that Sanada Genichirou owed him a favor. Taking a deep breathe, Sanada’s semi-snarled, “What?” didn’t sound half as venomous as it usually did.

“Yukimura sent me to tell you that you’re late for practice.” Yanagi had a notebook in hand and was writing as quickly as he could. Though Sanada was clearly distressed, he looked, physically, better than Yanagi had seen him in a long while. A few months after Yukimura had been admitted to the hospital, Sanada started to stay indoors, practicing kendo or arranging gifts for Yukimura. Now, though, his complexion was back to the slightly bronzed tone Yanagi remembered from earlier in the year.

“I’m not coming to practice.” Sanada put his shinai away, his eyes refusing to raise from the ground. “I submitted my resignation to Yukimura a week and a half ago.”

“Yukimura has declined your offer to resign. You are late for practice.” Yanagi was fairly certain he was going to run out of pencil lead before this visit was over. There was so much data to collect. For example, Sanada’s left shoulder twitched every time Yukimura’s name was said. Fascinating.

“He will accept it in time. I do not plan to rescind my resignation. If that is all you’ve come to say, please leave. I will see you at school tomorrow.”

Yanagi watched Sanada’s back tense, the muscles rippling. Buchou would be pleased that Sanada would be at school the following day but very unhappy about Sanada’s persistence in resigning from the club. Yukimura was used to getting his way, particularly where Sanada was concerned. The fukubuchou’s resistance to Yukimura’s commands was actually having a visible effect on Yukimura. Yukimura was usually a smiler, but without Sanada, the buchou’s lips were curled down or, as they were at today’s practice, set in a straight line. Yukimura had not laughed since the first day of his return, and that had been a forced affair for Kirihara and Marui. “It would be wise not to cross him, Sanada. He is going to be insistent on this matter.”

“Yukimura has gone through worse than my resignation and lived. He will be fine.” Sanada took a katana from a rack on the wall and turned toward Yanagi. “I invite you to leave now.”

“Hai fukubuchou.” Yanagi bowed and scampered out, not entirely convinced that Sanada was above skewering him with the recently retrieved katana.

& = &

“Where is Sanada?” Yukimura stood on the Rikkai tennis courts, supervising practice.

“He was unwilling to come.” Yanagi steeled himself for the coming pain. “He did inform me that he would be in school tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Renji. You may complete your twenty laps now- around the practice grounds, please.” The Rikkai practice grounds were a quarter mile in circumference. Yukimura turned from watching practice and leveled Yanagi with a cold lavendar stare. “You aren’t running. Is there a problem?”

“I’m having difficulty determining the logic of your request.” Yanagi opened his notebook. “Please explain.”

“You have failed to complete your objective. Dealing with Sanada requires endurance and, as you have come back empty handed, you obviously are lacking. I am taking measures to relieve you of your weakness. Laps. Now.” Yukimura turned away and offered no other choice but for Yanagi to begin his five mile run. He had half an hour before practice was over, five minutes per mile. This was going to hurt.

& = &

Yukimura watched Yanagi run and, for a brief moment, felt guilty. It wasn’t Yanagi’s fault that Sanada refused to come; it was Sanada’s own stubborn idiocy that was making things so difficult. Still, Yanagi was smart and should have been able to figure out Sanada’s weak points by now. But, if Sanada was coming to school, there was no way he could avoid Yukimura. The buchou could fake a dizzy spell and acquire a hall pass at will. Armed with the ability to roam the building freely, Yukimura could simply wait for Sanada to leave class. It would be slightly odd for him to be seen waiting outside a classroom like a delinquent, but Yukimura was willing to do whatever was necessary to get his fukubuchou back.

“Yukimura-buchou, we’ve finished the drills you assigned. Niou and Kirihara are supervising the freshmen.” Jackal handed a clipboard to Yukimura and bowed slightly. “Marui and Yaguu report that none of the second or third years were unable to complete their laps in the assigned time. We knocked the return time down by five minutes as you suggested.”

“Is this how you practiced while I was away?” Yukimura held the clipboard to his chest, not really caring about how many racket swings the freshmen had completed or who arrived first from the obstacle course Yanagi had constructed.

“No,” Jackal replied, still refusing to meet Yukimura’s gaze. “The practices were much harder. Sanada did not want to disappoint you.” The bald boy bowed deeply. “Please don’t blame Sanada, he took our defeat very badly. He doesn’t want to accept that he was beaten by a freshman…”

“…because he was distracted by my surgery. Thank you Jackal. Please dismiss the others and let them know that, as of tomorrow, you will be resuming Sanada’s training regimen. When Yanagi has completed his laps, ask him to compile a detailed list of the drills you performed while I was away. I am interested in seeing Sanada’s methods.”

“Hai buchou.” Jackal sounded less than thrilled at the prospect of renewing Sanada’s training schedule but, wisely, kept his opinions to himself.

& = &

The girls whispering near the door alerted Sanada to Yukimura’s presence long before the boy entered and asked one of the gaggle to fetch Sanada to the hall. As Sanada saw it, he had two options: comply or decline. If he complied, then he was going to give in to Yukimura’s demand to return to the club. If he declined, Yukimura would stand there all day until Sanada complied. Sanada turned to the pigtailed, giggling monstrosity that had spoken to him and gruffed out, “I am busy. Go away.” The girl scampered and Sanada resumed his study of his English text.

The sudden silence in the room and the pounding of feet drew Sanada up from his text in time to see a fire-eyed Yukimura Seiichi walking into the room. Sanada looked back down at his text. “Sanada. Hall. Now.” A hand landed on Sanada’s shoulder and squeezed. From the strength of it, you wouldn’t have guessed that, only a month ago, Yukimura was fighting for his life in a hospital bed.

“I have an exam to…” A pale hand swiped the book off the desk. “Yukimura-buchou...”

“Don’t you dare, Sanada. Now move it.”

“You’re making a scene.” Sanada leaned down to retrieve his book. He couldn’t give in. Yukimura might not understand now, but he would with time. “We can discuss this at a more appropriate time.”

Yukimura grabbed the book. “No, we will discuss this now.” Yukimura’s voice had gone from searing anger to calm and sweet. It was the voice Yukimura used before he began breaking things.

“I have given you my resignation, you have no right to disrupt my lunch.” The slap to the face hurt a little more than Sanada anticipated. He knew it was coming- it was one of the stages Yukimura’s anger went through- but that didn’t make it hurt any less. “Violence isn’t going to work on me.”

“Genichirou, I will not beg. I will be waiting for you on the roof. I will continue to wait there until you arrive.” Yukimura turned on his heel and cut his way through their ring of observers.

Sanada sighed and stood, following Yukimura. If he didn’t go, Yukimura really would stay up there all day and catch something in the cold. For looking so frail, the buchou really was obstinate.

& = &

Yukimura ignored the echo of Sanada’s footsteps. He had to stay angry, at least long enough to ensure Sanada’s return to the team. Yukimura dredged up the horrible feeling of having Sanada walk away after handing Yukimura his resignation. It was an acid feeling that ran from Yukimura’s stomach all the way up through his sinuses. It was like decaying while you were still alive.

“Yukimura, please understand…”

“Be quiet Genichirou. I would like you to listen to me for a moment.” Finally, the acid feeling burning his nerves, Yukimura turned to face his fukubuchou.

“I always listen to you.” Sanada was without his hat, so he tried to hide behind his bangs to very little effect.

“No, you always agree with me, but you rarely listen.” Yukimura moved to one of the concrete blocks that served as a bench. “Come sit with me, please?” The acid was fading, being replaced by a jelly-like weariness. When Sanada sat, he did so two feet from Yukimura. Yukimura scooted over. “Thank you for watching the team for me, Genichirou. They told me how hard you worked them and how determined you were to win. Thank you.”

“I still…”

“Quiet, please.” Yukimura reached over and set one of his hands on Sanada’s. “Sometimes, no matter how hard we try, there will be someone better. You were distracted by my surgery. Yanagi told me of your previous encounter with that freshmen. You won, did you not?” Sanada nodded, his hands clenching into fists. Yukimura ran his thumb over the top of Sanada’s hand soothingly. “It was a difficult day, Genichirou, but we did the best we could under the circumstances. We will win nationals. There will be no more distractions.” Yukimura looked up at Sanada’s face only to find it was turned away from him. The buchou bit his lip, wondering if he should say the rest of his prepared speech. As it was, Sanada was probably never going to rejoin the tennis team, so there wasn’t any real harm in saying it, but still- it would make things awkward.

As Yukimura deliberated, Sanada spoke, his voice a whisper, nearly lost in the wind. “You would do better without me.”

“Without you, Sanada Genichirou, I would not do at all.” Yukimura reached up and turned Sanada’s head towards him. “For two months, you were the thing that sustained me. For two months, you came to see me every day, staying the weekends even though you needed to train, even though visiting hours were over. You can’t just vanish on me. I don’t know how to live without you now.” Yukimura squeezed Sanada’s hand and looked away. Sanada was probably disgusted now. He was probably going to get up and never speak to Yukimura again.

The arms that encircled Yukimura were a surprise. The soft wisps of hair brushing against Yukimura’s forehead as Sanada kneeled overhead were doubly shocking. “Stop thinking stupid things, Seiichi. You don’t need me. You’re strong now.” The words sliding across Yukimura’s ear made him shiver and move into Sanada’s embrace.

“I’m only strong because of you. With you to back me up, I can do anything.” Yukimura looked up, one hand reaching for Sanada’s face while the other sought out the Sanada’s hand, still clenched in a fist. “Stay with me, Genichirou. I beat an undefeatable disease for you. After that, nationals shouldn’t be that hard, ne?”

Sanada’s breath was still ghosting over Yukimura’s ear. When he spoke, it was a warm wind. “No, nationals shouldn’t be that hard.” Sanada gave Yukimura’s hand a squeeze before rising up, separating them with a slow step back. “You should not be out in the cold; you’ll get sick.”

“If my fukubuchou weren’t so stubborn, I wouldn’t have to be out in the cold,” Yukimura smiled, standing. “You missed lunch. We should go eat something before practice.” Yukimura reached for Sanada’s hand and, while Sanada seemed slightly uncomfortable with the gesture, he didn’t shake it off.

“I have an English exam,” Sanada protested as they walked to the stairs.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. You’re helping your fragile buchou get something to eat so he won’t faint.” Yukimura squeezed Sanada’s hand and shuffled a bit closer. “You’re always so considerate like that, Sanada-kun.”

“Hai, Yukimura-buchou.” Sanada’s movement stopped at the door to the stairs. “Anou…Yukimura.” Sanada’s eyebrows furrowed and he looked down to the floor.

“Yes, Genichirou?” Yukimura bent down and twisted to catch Sanada’s eyes.

“Please do not call me Genichirou in front of the team. It’s…awkward.”

Yukimura suspected that many things between himself and Sanada were going to be awkward for a good long time. “Will Geni-kun suffice?”

“Yukimura,” Sanada warned, opening the stairway door and tugging Yukimura along.

“Yanagi told me that was what your mother used to call you. I think it’s cute.” Yukimura’s laughter echoed down the stairwell.

“It’s humiliating. Sanada is fine.” Despite himself, Sanada was laughing as well.

“Hai fukubuchou, whatever you say.” Yukimura bridged the final half foot between himself and Sanada, twining their arms together. Together, just like this, they were going to win nationals. And, even if they didn’t, Yukimura didn’t particularly care.


End file.
